


Doubts and Things Deserved

by niennavalier



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Insecurity, Lewis Snart's A+ Parenting, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Sick!Len, Sickfic, i dont know which is the more common tag so...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:24:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niennavalier/pseuds/niennavalier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Barry had left for work in the morning, he'd been expecting to come home and look after his sick boyfriend. But when Lewis Snart resurfaces and kidnaps his son, things quickly turn from the domestic and normal route that Barry had been expecting. For Len, the ordeal dredges up old worries and insecurities, convincing him that he doesn't deserve Barry, and that Barry deserves someone better than him.</p><p>Coldflash Angst Sickfic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doubts and Things Deserved

**Author's Note:**

> At some point I realized that Coldflash sickfic tends to be really fluffy (or smutty), so of course I chose to ruin that and decided to stick all my favorite tropes together. Because, well, I had the beginning of a sickfic and the end of an angsty fic. Go figure I'd put them together. Might've murdered my feels a few times in the process. 
> 
> I apologize in advance.

     Barry returned to the apartment, plastic bag in hand from the pharmacy he’d stopped at after finishing up his night of mostly normal weirdness. Len had been getting sick that morning – not bad yet, but it was there – and Barry had figured it’d be a decent idea to just be prepared early. No harm in that, right?

      He’d expected to find Len lounging around on the couch, reading, or else in the kitchen for a mug of hot cocoa (winter _was_ starting to roll around, and Len had insisted they stock up, though it wasn’t like Barry would’ve complained anyway). When neither of those proved true, Barry sped into the bedroom, because _maybe he was feeling worse than Barry had expected?_

     Nope. Nothing.

     Fear arced through Barry’s chest, and he Flashed through the apartment again, just to be sure, only to come up equally empty-handed. No one was there. He even called up Lisa, asking if Len had been planning with the Rogues for something. But after learning that was far from the case, and assuring Lisa everything was fine, Barry felt his heart race faster as he ran a hand through his hair, pacing across the living room.

     It was then that he noticed it. Almost half hidden behind the couch, gone earlier unnoticed by Barry in his panic, though that was unsurprising, given how the cloth had almost blended in with the crumpled tissues littering the floor. He crouched down next to it, picking it up gingerly and lifting it close to his nose, a pungently sweet odor, tinged with chemicals, wafting up toward him.

     Chloroform.

     He sped back to STAR Labs, trying to ignore the rising terror in his gut.

* * *

 

     It was cold. That was the first thing Len realized as he woke up in a place he wasn’t supposed to be. As memory returned, he recalled being on the couch after Barry had left for work, holding a book with one hand and a crumpled tissue to nurse a runny nose with the other. He remembered being vaguely glad he wasn’t supposed to report to the Waverider for another week; not because he was sick – he wasn’t – but because he didn’t need his crew jumping to conclusions. He’d simply been glad for the time to relax and had been waiting for Barry to arrive home when he’d passed out comfortably on their living room couch.

     But there was more, wasn’t there? Waking up suddenly, getting grabbed from behind, a cloth pressing up against his face. Being unable to fight the guy off – built too much like Mick, especially when Len was off his game – and everything turning black.

     Full consciousness returned quickly after that. Len sniffled and shivered as he took in his surroundings: some kind of refrigeration unit, if his fogging breath meant anything. Empty and large, like the kind food packaging companies used to store product, though Len couldn’t recall any sorts of warehouses existing anywhere in Central City. The rest of the room wasn’t yielding many clues, too generic to tell much of a story as to where the hell he’d ended up.

     He huddled into a ball in the corner he’d woken up in, trying to maintain what body heat he could with his hands zip tied behind him, but it wasn’t long until a different sound caught his attention. His head snapped up in the direction of the door as it opened, and Len’s scowl deepened to hide the way his heart had begun to thrum even faster.

     “From what I hear, this is the way you like things, son.”

     “What the hell’re you doing here?” Len snarled at his father. His father who was supposed to be locked up in Iron Heights after the attempted diamond heist, whom Barry had Flashed straight to the cops before letting them come and take Len in themselves. His father who wasn’t supposed to haunt Len now that Barry was around and protecting Central.

     “Mutual interests. I hear you’ve made some powerful enemies. Mardon, he said his name was. Got the help of one of these other metahumans, called him Rainbow Raider.”

     Mardon and Bivolo. Len would ice them both as soon as he was out of here. “And what mutual interests are those?”

     “Neither of them seem to care about the Flash any more than I do, and it’s about time I taught you another lesson after last time.”

     “Not exactly mutual interests,” Len drawled, trying hard not to sniffle, even as he felt his nose begin to run again. Dammit.

     “Close enough.” His father stepped forward, crouching down directly in front of Len. “Seeing as how well you two worked together, I wouldn’t be surprised if he came running after you once he finds out just where you are. Our friends get their playtime with the Flash. And then, I want you to watch as I kill him.”

     Len didn’t answer, knew too well how to keep his expression cold, how to hide the way his heart had jumped to his throat in fear, because Barry didn’t know just what was waiting for him at this warehouse. Because, even if his father didn’t know about their relationship, he’d figured out just where to hurt him nonetheless.

     But there were still things he couldn’t hide. For as much as he ignored the growing pounding in his head, he couldn’t do anything about the way his nose had begun to run in earnest, and he sniffed, watching as his father grinned. “Looks like someone’s under the weather.” He stood and moved to the side, slicing the zip-tie from Len’s wrists and turning to leave, Len making no move to attack, couldn’t risk making himself dizzy in the process, making everything worse.

     The door closed shut, and Len wrapped his arms around himself as the temperature continued to drop.

* * *

 

     “C’mon, Cisco, you have anything yet?” Barry was pretty sure that, at this rate, he’d be pacing a canyon into the concrete floor of the Cortex before he could even realize it.

     “Look, man, I know you’re worried but just gimme a sec, okay?” Cisco shook his head. They’d already tried the traffic cameras, only to find every single one within a ten mile radius iced, masking the route taken by the black van they’d spotted pulling up a block away from the apartment. And both the cell phone tracer and ultraviolet cold signatures weren’t turning up anything more helpful, both items having been replaced at the apartment before Barry had returned home. He heaved a deep breath, making a grabbing motion at Barry. “You know what, gimme the gun. Maybe I can vibe where he is.” Cisco reached for his glasses, as Barry handed him the cold gun.  Tense seconds passed as Barry waited with baited breath, until Cisco snapped back to the Cortex, rushing to the computers.

     “You got something?” Barry blurted out.

     “I think so,” Cisco finished typing, pulling up a location right outside the edge of Central City’s limits. “Old storage facility for a meat packing company called Hoffrichter Farms. Got shut down couple years ago – something about infestation and a couple dead employees. No power to that area since then, and guess whose generators just got turned back on today?”

     Barry rushed off as soon as the last sounds were out of Cisco’s mouth, setting foot in the building a minute later, slowing down in time to be appropriately creeped out by the company’s sign – a dancing, animated cow and pig – _wow, he was kinda glad this thing got shut down, because really?_ The thought only lasted a second as Barry stepped through the corridors, pushing past the plastic sheets hanging from the ceiling, mind racing because _why here?_

     Until a softball-sized piece of hail came whistling by his head, Flash speed being the only thing that saved him.

     “Mardon?!” What the hell?

     Weather Wizard stepped out from behind a corner, another chunk of ice growing in the air between his hands. “About time we had a little rematch, don’t you think?”

     Barry was bristling. He didn’t have time for this! “What do you want, Mardon?”

     “Like I said, a rematch.” The man shrugged, as if this was all nothing.

     “If you wanted me, what’d you need Cold for?” Barry kept the concern out of his voice as best he could. Information like that was something he didn’t need the other metas exploiting.

     “Just part of a package deal. You’ll see.”

     “What do you mean -?”

     And then he was back to dodging hailstones and gusts of tornado-strength wind and bolts of lightning. Which was definitely new. The other meta had clearly been honing his powers since Barry had last seen him, which was making things a lot harder, especially without the Weather Wand on him. But how the hell was he supposed to know he’d be fighting Mardon?!

     With Cisco and Caitlin offering up advice as the fight went on, Barry was able to land a punch, sending Mardon flying backwards, the indoor rainstorms disappearing abruptly. The man groaned, clutching his ribs as he made to rise. “Give it up. It’s just you and me, and you’re not gonna win.”

     What he wasn’t expecting was the smirk that crossed Mardon’s features. “Who said it was just me?”

     “Who else -?”

     “Flash, good to see you again.” Barry spun to face the door that had suddenly opened on the side of the room and scowled, about to rush up to Lewis Snart and demand to know where Len was. But he never got around to it, because the last thing he saw was red.

* * *

 

     Len wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be feeling anymore. Everything was just…fuzzy, hazy around the edges, and whether that was because of illness or the chill, it was getting harder and harder to tell. He could feel the flush in his own cheeks, courtesy of the fever his body was trying to make climb by the hour (how long had he been in there?), but not the heat it brought, his face, everything, just feeling so…cold.

     He huddled back into the corner he’d curled into, sniffling and pressing his sleeve to his runny nose in lieu of any better options. Against all better judgement, he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way his body ached – a combination of the cold, attempts at escape, and the onsetting, deeper pain in his bones now that sickness was really starting to take hold – and felt himself begin to doze, lost in the haziness of everything.

     All of a sudden, his father was there, back in that freezer, though Len couldn’t remember the door ever opening. And he wasn’t alone, a red clad figure dragged along beside him, thrown to the ground in the space between Len and his father, cowl torn back, face bruised and bloodied and broken. The kid’s eyes were closed, but his breaths were steady – alive, but unconscious – and Len just wanted to call out to him, to wake him up _he had to wake up_ but his voice wasn’t working, stolen away by the cold. And he tried again. Coughing, trying to clear his throat, but he couldn’t manage more than a rasp that burned at the back of his throat. He tried to move, tried to reach Barry, but the attempt sent him into a coughing fit, leaving him hunched over as his head throbbed, his limbs ached. When he had the strength to look up again, there was his father, now with a gun in hand, sadistic smile twisting his features. Fear arced through Len’s chest…and the shot was so loud, ringing in Len’s ears because _he couldn’t stop it_. Couldn’t do anything but watch it travel through Barry’s back, into his heart. Blood, so much blood, spilling out, pooling onto the floor and Len just wanted for Barry to wake up, to get up off the floor because it was a trick just like last time and he was alive but he wasn’t breathing and there was just so much _red_. And it was Len’s fault. All Len’s fault Barry was dead. It was his fault _his fault_ of course it was all his fault –

     Then he wasn’t there anymore. Not in the freezer anymore, but tied up to a pipe, shivering and there was Barry in front of him. Alive, awake, but huddled in the corner, pelted with hail by Mardon, crying out in pain. This time, Len was able to yell out Barry’s name. He didn’t care how much the pain ripped at his throat, he called out, watching as the chunks of ice stopped flying, as Barry’ eyes met his, tinted with indigo. Watched as he scrambled away with a whimper, trying to press further into the corner away from Len, sobbing, fear radiating from his entire form. Because he’d seen Len. And Len wished he could just go to Barry, take his face in his hands, comfort him, tell him he would never hurt him, he loved him, he loved him so much _please just trust me, Barry._ And then his father’s voice insidious in his ear, “See, he’s scared of you. He hates you, because you’ll always be part of the family business. He didn’t care about you, son. Never did, and never will.” No. No no no that wasn’t the truth it wasn’t! Len knew it, knew it couldn’t be true but there Barry was, terrified of him because…because of course he was. Of course Barry would hate him, be scared of him, but Len had been too selfish to think of that. Always, always thinking about himself. He sniffled, whether from being sick or the tears he could feel pooling in the corners of his eyes, he didn’t care.

     “Barry,” he near whispered, trying to fix things, trying to make them right, “Barry…please.” But the kid just scrambled further away. Even as Mardon smirked, started pelting him with hail again, Barry was trying harder to get away from Len than from Mardon. Len felt his heart clench in his chest as the tears streamed down his cheeks and the beginning of his own sob choked off his voice –

     But disappeared as the scene changed again. And there wasn’t just Barry there in front of him, feet iced to the floor as if by Len’s own gun. But Lisa, too, hands and feet bound, strapped onto a chair. Both of them watching Len, fear making their eyes wide because Len knew his father stood behind him. And then there was that awful ringing noise, the same one right before his father had blown off that guy’s head, with Barry and Lisa’s screams in agony, tormenting his ears and hurting his head and “Please,” he croaked, “don’t hurt them. I’ll do anything you want just…don’t hurt them.” And then the agreement: kill them both, or his father would do it himself. Punishment for his betrayal. He squeezed his eyes shut and sucked in a breath that made him cough because _he couldn’t choose_. Couldn’t let his father kill the two people he loved, couldn’t even think of standing behind the trigger himself. But then as his coughing subsided, there was his father’s voice again, telling him he had to learn his lesson, not let himself become so weak, and angry tears ran down his cheeks. Not at Barry or Lisa or his father, but at himself. How he hated himself because it was his fault they were in trouble. If it weren’t for him they’d be safe but now they weren’t and it was all because they knew him and he wasn’t safe. He wasn’t. They would’ve been better off if they’d never known him. They deserved better than someone like him.

     “Len…” he heard Barry try to soothe him in that way he didn’t, _didn’t_ , deserve. He didn’t deserve Barry’s kindness, Lisa’s care, either of their love. He hurt them, all he ever did was hurt people, because his father was right – he was the villain, always would be. Then there was Lisa’s voice, attempting to say something, but cut off by that sound again, their groans of pain growing to cries of anguish, louder and louder with the shrieking sound of the detonator and Len squeezed his eyes shut more tightly because it was his fault it was his fault it was _all his fault_ –

     His eyes shot open with a gasp of frigid air that sent him into a painfully violent coughing fit, but the tightness in his chest wasn’t coming from the congestion or the coughing. He was shaking, could feel it as he curled up into a smaller ball, darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision, and breaths able to come in nothing other than gasping sobs. His father would kill Barry, kill his family, if he hadn’t already.

     And it was all because of him.

* * *

 

     Ragged coughs sounded at the edge of Barry’s perception, which had to be pretty loud to draw his attention away from the immediate rage. Lewis Snart grinned despite the front of his shirt being held in Barry’s fist, only bringing the anger back to the forefront of the speedster’s mind as he knocked the old man out, tying him up with spare pieces of rope, left behind from when they’d been used to secure meat. Took care of the other two metas in just as quick a manner – easy targets now thanks to Raider’s powers – and tying them up. And he sped away, trying to trace the origin of the sound, the edges of his perception still stained with red rage at the men in the other room. It was gonna be impossible in a facility this large…Suddenly there was a harsh sneeze, and Barry tracked the sound and the following sniffles to a locked freezer unit. He vibrated the lock, swinging the door open…and Raider’s induced rage abruptly faded away.

     “Len!” Barry rushed into the room, skin prickling at the frigid air, over to where the man was curled against the back corner, clad in only dark jeans and a thin black sweater, shivering.

     He coughed again, and sniffled before opening his eyes blearily. “B-b-barry?”

     _God, his voice – how long had he been in there? How sick was he?_ “Len, just listen to me, okay? You’re gonna be fine. I’m gonna get you back to STAR Labs, okay?” He didn’t even wait for the nod, just speeding off again, holding tight onto the man trembling in his arms.

     Under a minute later and Barry was back, depositing Len on one of the beds in the med bay, replacing his cold clothes (not wet, but Barry wasn’t taking chances) with sweats and grabbing every blanket he could find in their lounge before he ended up running into Caitlin. He stepped to the side, let Caitlin do her job without his interference, changing out of the Flash suit, his body thrumming with nervous energy.

     When he saw Caitlin approaching him, she was quick to reassure. “He’ll be okay. Low core body temperature and symptoms of the flu, but nothing that he shouldn’t be able to recover from with a little rest, barring unforeseen complications.” Barry nodded, feeling almost numb until Caitlin laid a hand on his shoulder with a gentle smile. “It’ll be alright, Barry.” He managed a smile at that, and she left to join Cisco in the Cortex, giving Barry whatever space he needed.

     Which, almost ironically, wasn’t much, in a sense. Without hesitation, Barry squeezed into the hospital bed at Len’s back, cuddling in close and wrapping his arms around the other man, who was curled in on himself with restless sleep. Len was still shivering, a combination of lingering hypothermia and rising fever, and Barry didn’t move from his position for a long time, waiting for the shivers to subside. At some point in it all, as Len’s stuffy breaths began to even out, Barry felt himself begin to doze off, lulled by the rhythm, things almost feeling nice –

     “Ahh-choo!”

     Barry startled back awake, zipping back around the bed and crouching down in front of Len, seeing his pinched features, his hand raised to his nose. The sudden gust of air must’ve tickled it again, prompting another sneeze, and Len opened his eyes afterward, taking the tissue Barry offered to wearily wipe at his runny nose. Barry took in everything about Len’s features: the glassy, watery look to his normally clear blue eyes, the dark circles smudged beneath them, the feverish flush coloring his cheeks in contrast to the pallor of the rest of his skin, the red and raw tip of his nose, the way he just looked stretched thin and tired.

     Still breathtaking all the same. Which Barry could never explain, and barely understood, but knew to be true.

     Len croaked out his name, and Barry offered a small smile. “How’re you feeling?”

     “Everything aches.” Len’s eyes turned pleading. “Wanna go home.”

     “Len…”

     “Please,” he coughed, and continued, the obvious congestion hurting Barry’s heart, “don’ wanna stay here.”

     Knowing they could hear from the Cortex, Barry turned to Caitlin, questioning. The look he received in return was definitely disapproving, but also not about to stop him, now that Len was as alert as they would expect anyone exhausted and bedridden with the flu to be. Which was somehow, definitely, a distinction.

     He turned back to Len, feeling a more genuine smile tug at his lips at seeing the other man’s eyelids already beginning to droop again. “I’ll be back in a little, and then we can go home.” He picked up Len’s hand that wasn’t still holding the tissue and lightly kissed the cold fingers, receiving an affirmative hum in return. After a serious lecture from Caitlin about keeping an eye out and bringing Len back if anything seemed to get worse, Barry flashed back home for Len’s car and was returning in seconds. Coaxing Len off the bed was more difficult, seeing as how he couldn’t lift him without accessing the speed force, but they managed, wrapping Len in blankets and settling him into the passenger seat.

     Within a minute of Barry starting the engine back up, Len was already fast asleep.

* * *

 

     As Barry parked, the silenced rumble of the engine caused Len to finally stir, mumbling without opening his eyes, “Scarlet?”

     “Yeah, it’s me, Len. We’re back home.” Barry shifted in the seat, hands coming to rest on Len’s cheeks. “Think you can walk inside?”

     “’m fine,” Len mumbled back with a cough, already dozing off in the seat again as Barry chuckled to himself, in spite of it all. Only Len could be so adamant while sick and mostly-asleep.

     Which was what led to Barry half-guiding and half-carrying his stumbling and ailing boyfriend into their apartment building and up to their home, careful enough to pause for each of Len’s violent coughs or sneezes, and pull the blankets back tight around his shoulders so Len could snuggle into their warmth even as they walked. Even as he was opening the door a significant amount of time later, Barry didn’t regret not using his speed; there was no way in hell he would’ve risked whatever motion sickness that could’ve caused, not with the condition Len was in, not now that they were out of the most immediate danger. It was in the same way that Barry guided Len into their bedroom, situating him beneath the covers, before slipping a quick kiss onto his red and raw nose and speeding off to shoot off quick calls to Joe and Cisco, checking that Lewis and Mardon and Bivolo had been taken in.

     After which, he returned to the bed, undressing and clambering in beside Len, who immediately turned, Barry’s name on his lips, voice low and raspy and rough. He wrapped his arms around Barry’s middle, tucking his head underneath Barry’s chin to rest near the younger man’s heart, clinging hard. Not something Barry was concerned about as he felt Len drop back off into sleep.

     But it wasn’t long before this sleep proved to be just as restless as the short one at the Labs. Before Barry had even begun to fall asleep, he could feel Len beginning to tremble in his arms, mumbling incoherently. His breaths turned quicker, more ragged, as he tried and failed to sniffle against Barry’s chest, nose too stuffed to accomplish anything, and began to thrash slightly, arms pulled back into his body, about to toss and turn in earnest.

     Barry knew Len needed the rest to get over whatever bug he’d caught, but he knew all too well the signs of a nightmare.

     “Len?” He reached out tentatively, gently touching Len’s shoulders, the other man starting at the contact, eyes wide with fear in a way Barry rarely ever saw. “You’re okay. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise.” Len curled back into Barry’s chest, his body beginning to shake with sobs that occasionally devolved into wracking coughs that made Barry’s heart twist. He used one hand to cup the back of Len’s head, hugging him even closer and pressing a kiss atop the short-shorn hair, mumbling a mantra of “It’s okay, you’re safe” in an attempt to soothe, but to no avail.

     He felt Len shake his head, another sob erupting from his lips. “’m not. ‘m not safe. ‘s my fault.”

     What? “It’s not your fault.”

     “It is. ‘s cause of me he went after you.”

     Was he talking about -?

     “He,” Len started again, trying to clear his throat, words cut off between labored breaths, “he was gonna kill you. In front of me.” His voice broke on the last words as he clawed and clung onto Barry. “’n’ I couldn’ do anything. He was gonna hurt you and it’s cause of me…” The sobs came on harder, brought about coughs that sounded like they _hurt._

     Barry pulled away, just far enough to be able to see Len’s face as he spoke. “It’s not your fault, Len. Okay? There wasn’t anything you could do. I don’t blame you for anything.” He pressed a kiss to Len’s forehead, feeling the fever raging just beneath the skin, a reminder that he was really sick and exhausted, probably reacting in a way he wouldn’t be if it was any other day.

     Len needed to rest, Barry knew that, but it wasn’t about to happen anytime soon. “You _should_ blame me,” he rasped, and god, Barry just wished he could make him feel better, in every sense of the word.

     “No…Len…” Barry tried, reaching out a hand, but Len shied away, curling in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut.

     “’m not good for you.”

     “Yes, you are, okay? You are, Len.” Barry tried to bridge that gap again, took Len’s fisted hand and massaged it open, twining their fingers together. “You’re perfect, I promise.”

     “’m not.” Len only shook his head, and when Barry tried again, scooting closer to Len, the older man sat up and retreated to the foot of the bed, knees pulled up to his chest, breaths stuffy and ragged. “You deserve better than a good-for-nothing criminal like me. I don’t deserve you.” Len glanced up then, yet unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “I _don’t_.” He closed his eyes again, chin dropping, the tears slipping out and onto his cheeks. “I can’t be the kind of person you deserve.” Then suddenly Barry was just there, his arms wrapped tight around Len, and Len allowed himself to keen into Barry’s shoulder, allowed himself to take solace in this for as long as he could, until the day inevitably came that he’d screw this all up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

     Because he would. He would mess this all up eventually. It was just a miracle Barry hadn’t kicked him to the curb a long time ago. What had ever made him think that Barry could love someone like him? Why would Barry ever want to be with someone who had and would cause him so much pain, who was so weak, who was so…broken?

     The coughs came suddenly, made the tightness in his chest almost hurt, his nose start to run again as he tried to sniffle.  Barry pulled away then, and Len wanted to chase him except…he couldn’t – he _shouldn’t_. But then Barry was back, dragging a tissue box across the bed and letting Len blow his painfully stuffed nose before draping a blanket across his shoulders to fight off the shivers that Len hadn’t even noticed. And then there were blissfully cool palms cupping his flushed face gently, Barry’s thumbs wiping away the tears still staining his cheeks, though Len couldn’t bring himself to meet those hazel eyes, the hurt too raw even as Barry started talking. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, okay? You’re not bad; you’re _not_.” And Len wanted to dissent because _he wasn’t a good guy, he knew he wasn’t, couldn’t change that no matter what he wanted, how much he wanted_ but couldn’t fit the words between Barry’s. “A real bad guy wouldn’t have ever helped me out, wouldn’t have saved the world, wouldn’t have given his life for his team. A real bad guy wouldn’t be willing to do anything in the world to protect his sister, wouldn’t be here trying to make things better.”

     Len forced a bitter, scoffing laugh, wincing at how that made his throat burn. “Not even a good villain. Can’t be the bad guy, but not enough of me knows how to be good…” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t love me.”

     The admission was so raw, so honest, Barry couldn’t help but feel his heart twist inside of his chest. What had happened to make Len feel this way so suddenly, Barry didn’t know; he only knew that Len was wrong about himself, and he had to make sure he saw that. “No, there’s more good in you than you know, Len. Right here,” Barry moved a hand, laying it gently over Len’s heart, “even if you can’t see it for yourself.” When Barry didn’t get a response, he replaced his hand on Len’s cheek, his own chest aching. “And even if that weren’t the case, I didn’t just fall in love with a part of you. I didn’t just fall in love with the part of you I knew was good; I fell in love with _you_ , Len. With everything that you are. I know you think you’re too broken for that, but you’re not. All those jagged edges are what made the beautiful, brave, kind, sweet, _good_ man in front of me, and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

     He felt more hot tears under his fingers and running down his own cheeks as Len near collapsed against him, clearly exhausted, bringing them close enough for their foreheads to lean together. And he was soon met with the sight of bright blue eyes, raw and vulnerable and hurting, trying to find truth in Barry’s words.

     “I just…don’ wanna lose you,” Len rasped, “Can’t think if something happens to you ‘cause of me, ‘n’ I end up hurting you when I shouldn’ even have you at all.” He took a gasping breath that quickly turned into a cough, keeping his eyes shut again because he couldn’t face Barry. Because he was scared. God, he was _so scared_. Now that he knew how much Barry meant to him, how much he knew he _needed_ Barry, needed his light to help him keep his head above the darkness, save him from the broken pieces of his past. Because he was terrified of drowning in it all like he had been and…he didn’t want that, not again. Because he just…he _couldn’t_ – he couldn’t force himself to let go. Even if everything he’d done meant… “You should _hate_ me for what I’ve done to you, but I,” Len curled in tighter on himself, sniffing sharply, “I don’ know what I’d do –“

     “You have me, Len.” Barry’s hand was on his wrist now, light but grounding before sliding down to twine their fingers together. “You always will. I could never hate you.”

     “I don’t deserve you.”

     “Yes, you do. You deserve to be happy, too. Doesn’t matter what you’ve done, it’s the truth.”

     “Barry…”

     “I want you. Whatever you think, just – you’re worth it, okay?”

     Len nodded reluctantly, not entirely sure he believed Barry’s words yet. He wiped his nose, blew it again, and shivered abruptly, everything suddenly feeling so cold. For a moment, it felt like he was back at that warehouse again, back with his father, and darkness started seeping in at the edges of his vision…but then there were hands steadying his shoulders, pulling the blanket back around him again.

     “C’mon, let’s get back to bed.”

     “Don’ wanna go back to sleep.” Everything ached in a bone-deep way, and his head throbbed, his body just wanting nothing more than to let fatigue win, but he couldn’t let that happen. Despite what Barry had said, it didn’t mean he was ready to face the demons that still haunted him: his father and his words, himself, the man he was deep down that Barry refused to recognize, the man he would be if Barry wasn’t there.

     “But you’re sick, Len. You need to rest.” As if on cue, violent coughs tore from his lungs, and he sunk into Barry’s hold, more and more exhausted from the effort just to stay upright. He shook his head in response to Barry’s words, trying not to wince at the way his brain felt like it jostled inside his head, or give into the dizziness it caused.

     “Don’ wanna see it all again.”

     “I know. But...I need you, too. I need for you to get better. I need to know that you’re okay. It scares me to think about when you’re not. ‘Cause I care about you, Len. I love you. Always will, no matter what.”

     Len felt his eyes growing hot again, and there was a different kind of tightness gripping his chest that didn’t come from any illness. Then he felt Barry gather him in his arms again, let the tears smudge into Barry’s neck.

     Because, for once in his life, he knew what it felt like to feel loved.

     Sick and scared and sure to mess things up, and Barry Allen still loved him, was still there, holding him in his arms like none of it mattered. He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but as sleep began to pull at his aching limbs, he felt Barry guide them back to the pillows, under the covers, somehow never leaving Len without his warmth. He burrowed in closer, but still fought a losing battle against sleep, hearing one last thing before it claimed him.

     “I’m here. I’ll always be here. I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna guess no one really cares about this but, I don't know medical anything, so if this situation would even go vaguely like what I wrote, I have no idea. 
> 
> More relevant, though, feel free to come and yell at me in the comments. I probably deserve it.


End file.
